Forbidden Fruit
by fleur d-or
Summary: A d'Artagnan/Constance fic. M. Bonancieux is jealous of the handsome young soldier who lives upstairs, he can see Constance's interest in d'Artagnan, no matter how she tries to hide it. His jealousy brings the pair closer together, and not further apart.
1. That Horrible Little Man

Forbidden Fruit  
  
I do not claim to own the characters thought up by Alexandre Dumas' extraordinary mind. I just want to manipulate them in a puppet like manner.  
  
  
  
Through the floorboards of d'Artagnan's room, he could hear Monsieur Bonancieux shouting downstairs, in the mid-afternoon. "Do not take me for a fool, Constance! I know you are young, and still with a wandering eye! If you think I do not see how you look at Monsieur d'Artagnan, then you are the fool and not I." It must have been strong wine Bonancieux had consumed with dinner, to make him so brave in his words, thought d'Artagnan. For usually the little man skulked around his own home, quiet as a mouse and even less noticeable. "You are my wife, and you will respect me! You will honor me, and no longer cast such longing glances of appeal at Monsieur d'Artagnan!"  
  
"Yes! Yes I am your wife, and how dare you speak to me so! How dare you accuse me?" Constance stood up for herself. D'Artagnan could hear the surprise in her voice from M. Bonancieux's sudden streak of courage.  
  
"How dare I accuse you? Well, if I did not then my eyes surely would! For at least THEY do not lie to me."  
  
"Perhaps you are just jealous of M. d'Artagnan," expostulated Constance. This amused d'Artagnan, who was now sprawled out on his bed listening to this heated conversation.  
  
"Jealous? Why would I possibly be jealous? I am a considerable business man, with a fair amount of wealth, and am in the favor of the Cardinal himself. What could I possibly be jealous of?"  
  
"Perhaps you have procured wealth and favor, but d'Artagnan is a handsome promising young soldier, with obvious success in the future. Through M. Treville he holds the king's ear, where you scrabble to pick up scraps dropped to the floor by the Cardinal."  
  
The sudden sound of flesh striking flesh reverberated through the downstairs, echoing in d'Artagnan's room. This made the young soldier sit up on his bed, concern written on his face. The squeak of the front door opening and slamming shut met his ears. He hurried to the window to witness M. Bonancieux leave the inn, his cloak pulled tight around his small build, and his hat pulled down around his rather bulbous head. When d'Artagnan was positive the unpleasant little man had gone for a while, he quickly made his way downstairs, to find the room softly lighted with a single candle, and Constance softly crying, sitting on the floor whence she had fallen.  
  
D'Artagnan knelt down beside her. He touched the side of her face lightly, brushing a lock of disheveled hair behind her ear. "Constance?" he asked softly.  
  
She turned her face up to d'Artagnan's, her cheeks wet with shed tears, and her eyes glistening with those waiting to fall. D'Artagnan observed the large red welt on the left side of her face, that was beginning to form into a bruise. He felt a sudden anger curl in the pit of his stomach for M. Bonancieux.  
  
D'artagnan drew Constance into his arms, holding her petite form close. She protested meekly. "My husband, he could be back any minute, d'Artagnan."  
  
"Shhh. He will not be back for some time. He took his cloak and hat."  
  
This was all the assurance Constance needed, for she felt no romantic bond or loyalty towards her husband. She had been forced into this horrible little marriage at the age of 14. The plain M. Bonancieux was rather indifferent towards her, there was no love anywhere in the loop of that marriage. Constance relaxed in d'Artagnan's arms, allowing him to hold her as she cried silent tears onto his shoulder.  
  
After a few minutes Constance gently pushed away and stood, drawing d'Artagnan to his feet. "Thank you, Monsieur, you are very kind." She turned away to go to her room, but d'Artagnan held her hand more tightly, turning her attention back to him.  
  
"Why do you stay with him, Constance?"  
  
"And where else would I go, Monsieur?" D'Artagnan tried to think of an answer, but was left without speech. Constance smiled at his naivety. She stood on tiptoe, kissing him on the cheek. "My point exactly, Monsieur." She drew away with a sad smile, going to her room to powder her face, to hide the inevitable bruise. D'Artagnan watched her go, and the place where she had kissed his cheek burned. Not with a painful fire, but a desirous one.  
  
Constance walked back out of her chamber, hooded cloak in hand. "The Queen is expecting me, I must go to the Louvre," she explained on her way past d'Artagnan.  
  
"Wait! May I escort you?" d'Artagnan asked.  
  
"I should be fine. It wont be the first time I had walked this path in the dark."  
  
"Perhaps. But Paris is full of rogues and cutthroats. I should like to know you arrived and returned to your destination safely."  
  
Nodding, Constance agreed. "Very well." 


	2. Understood?

I really wish Constance hadn't died. Am I the only one who wishes she had stuck around? Regardless, this is set before she died anyway. Ahem. On with the story…….  
  
Constance and d'Artagnan made their way towards the Louvre in the dark of night. No conversation passed their lips, but both parties were content to be in each other's company. They reached the back gate of the Louvre, the entrance Constance frequently used. "I won't be but an hour, d'Artagnan. It shouldn't take long."  
  
D'Artagnan nodded. "I will wait."  
  
Constance turned to go, but then turned back to the young soldier. "Thank you, d'Artagnan, for all you have done for me."  
  
D'Artagnan smiled. "It is nothing, I assure you. It is my pleasure to do it. And I think there is nothing I would not do for you, if you requested it of me."  
  
A smile passed Constance's lips. "Then there should be more men like you, d'Artagnan."  
  
"Perhaps. But if there were more, I would not stand out much."  
  
"Like my husband does not."  
  
D'Artagnan shrugged. "I suppose. I think what he needs is a good lesson in manners." D'Artagnan reached out, touching Constance's bruised cheek lightly, emphasizing his point. Unexpectedly, she reached up, holding his hand to her cheek. "But my question is, Mademoiselle," whispered, d'Artagnan, taking a step closer, "Is does he have reason to be jealous?"  
  
Constance stood on tiptoe, suddenly pressing her lips to d'Artagnan's in a chaste but longing kiss. "I should like to think so, monsieur." With that parting note, she vanished behind the gate and into the palace.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Constance and d'Artagnan returned from the Louvre around the hour of 10:00. A candle was burning on the first floor of the small inn, M. Bonancieux had returned from where ever he had gone off to. "My husband, he has returned! We cannot walk in together like this, d'Artagnan, it will raise his suspicions too much!"  
  
"Very well," said d'Artagnan calmly. "You enter through the front door, and I will scale the wall to the window in my room." Constance nodded, and entered through the front. D'Artagnan went around to the side of the building, climbing up into his window. He quickly removed his coat, baldric, doublet, and boots, to make it appear as if he had been sleeping. Tousling his hair with one hand, he listened to the conversation below through the floor.  
  
"Where were you?" asked M. Bonancieux.  
  
"I was at the palace. The Queen required me."  
  
Bonancieux's chair crashed to the floor as he stood violently. "Do you think I honestly believe that? Monsieur d'Artagnan is not in his room! I know you two were out together."  
  
"D'Artagnan always keeps his door locked, my dear husband. I presume you knocked at his door, and received no answer. He was probably sleeping, or did not wish to speak to you." Bonancieux frowned, because that indeed was what had happened. A soft thud sounded, as if Constance had been pushed to the ground, or had been struck to the ground. She whimpered faintly. At the sound of Constance being struck again, d'Artagnan hurried silently out of his room and down the steps. He entered the foyer that Bonancieux and Constance occupied, to find Bonancieux brandishing a stick, that looked to be the end of a broom handle, and Constance on the ground. D'Artagnan sneaked up behind Bonancieux, and snatched the broom handle from his small hand, rapping the small man once on top of the head.  
  
Bonancieux yipped in surprise, gripping his bald pate. D'Artagnan then struck the small man behind the knees, making him fall to the ground. Keeping his eyes still on Bonancieux, he offered Constance a hand up from the hard wood floor. She took it, rising to stand next to the young soldier. Bonancieux made a movement as to rise as well, but d'Artagnan poked the broom stick into his chest, as if it were his rapier he held. "Stay," he commanded. Glancing to the side, d'Artagnan noticed Constance's bruised cheek was swollen from another cuff from the inebriated M. Bonancieux.  
  
"I must be strong wine, Bonancieux, to give you such a streak of courage," d'Artagnan commented.  
  
"I…I…I—" Bonancieux stuttered.  
  
"Quiet," d'Artagnan cut him off. He squatted down before Bonancieux, so they were eye to eye. The intense eyes of d'Artagnan saw fear in those of the mouse like inn keeper. He was quite terrified.  
  
"The Cardinal, he will—" Bonancieux tried to invoke the protection of the Cardinal, but d'Artagnan cut him off once again.  
  
"No no no, Bonancieux, this has nothing to do with the Cardinal. Bonancieux hushed himself, his eyes wild with fear now. The little man's head ached terribly from d'Artagnan's acute blow, but he dared not make a movement to nurse the bump atop his bald pate. "Do you know what sound sickens me to hear, more than anything else?" d'Artagnan asked. Bonancieux shook his head no, his lip quivering. D'Artagnan cuffed Bonancieux across the left cheek, the sound of flesh meeting flesh sounded throughout the room. "That sound sickens me. So if I ever EVER hear it again from you striking Madame, I will make sure that day is your last. And I don't care if the Queen herself hits Madame, but if I see a fresh bruise on her face, I will be coming after you. A gentleman does not strike a lady. Understood?" The young soldier stood and stepped back a pace. Taking the broom stick end in both hands, he snapped it over his knee.  
  
Bonancieux nodded vigorously, fear racking his small frame, making him tremble all over. "Good," said d'Artagnan. "You may go now."  
  
Bonancieux slowly stood, first pushing to his knees, then his feet. "I'm going out, I will return in the morning" he declared, and scurried out of the inn rather like a mouse which he resembled, taking his cloak and hat with him.  
  
Constance laughed, nearly giggling, holding her hand to the side of her face to hide her bruise. "I would be surprised if he even came back in the morning, you have frightened him so badly."  
  
"Hmmm," said d'Artagnan. "I certainly hope so. I hope I have put the fear of God into that foul little man." He turned to Constance. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine. Or I will be, in a week or so. I have a new mark to heal as well, now," she said sadly.  
  
"I'm sorry," said d'Artagnan, kissing Constance on the forehead. "But I believe it is a safe promise to make that this will never happen again."  
  
"I believe you are right," she agreed. D'Artagnan nodded, and headed back up to his room.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++ 


	3. All to Themselves

D'Artagnan, a light sleeper, woke with the sound of a key turning in the lock of his door. A figure he had grown to know well entered the room, closing and locking the door behind her. D'Artagnan released his grip on the poniard he had stowed away under his pillow. "Constance?" "Oui, d'Artagnan, tis I." "What-" Constance shushed him, placing fingers over his lips. She kissed him gently. "May I stay with you tonight?" "Of course. Are you afraid of your husband, when he returns?" Constance laughed softly. "A little, but I truly do not think he will hurt me after your warning. But mostly because I want to be with you. D'Artagnan smiled gently. "Well then, in that case." Constance laughed again quietly, sitting down on the edge of bed. d'Artagnan rolled over on his side, and propped himself up on one elbow. He stared up at Constance, admiring her beauty with a wry smile upon his lips. That devilish handsome smile made her heart beat faster than its already racing pace. She slid her hand over his lacing their fingers together. Using her hand he held for leverage, d'Artagnan pulled Constance down to him for a kiss. She leaned down, pressing her body the length of his, rolling him over on his back as the kiss grew. He leaned up on his elbows, pressing up at her mouth to delve deeper in. A low satisfied moan sounded from deep in her throat. Constance pulled back to look into d'Artagnan's eyes. She could see the love he felt for her in those clear blue eyes. She had never been with a man she truly loved, much less one so handsome and truly as a man should be, as d'Artagnan. He took a deep breath, and the movement of his chest rising and falling beneath her fascinated her. D'Artagnan laid back down on the bed, his hands now free. He reached up to touch Constance's face gently, brushing a blond curl from her lovely face. He could feel every line and curve of her body pressing against him through her thin nightgown, and the feeling was intoxicating. "I love you, Constance." She kissed him gently. "And I love you, d'Artagnan." He smiled, a breathtaking curl of lips. With hands on her waist, he lifted her up and rolled over, so now he was leaning over her. He leaned down to kiss her again, but the smile faded from his face when he saw the angry purple bruises from Bonancieux's abuse. Constance noticed this, and turned her face to the side so he couldn't see the bruises. "Non, Constance." D'Artagnan gently turned her face back to him with a finger hooked under her chin. He leaned down to kiss her, but not on her lips. He started with the bruise at her temple, his touch so gentle and lips so soft Constance's eyes fluttered shut. D'Artagnan gently kissed all of the bruises, seeming to make the pain go away. He moved so slowly, Constance could barely stand it. She wanted to touch the rest of him, not just his lips, and she wanted him to touch her, laying those strong hands on her body. She moved to his mouth once again, taking him by surprise, claiming it for her own. She knew tonight was their night, the Inn was all to themselves, and her husband would not be back this night. 


End file.
